Atobe's Horrendous Camping Expedition
by Katalystik
Summary: Hyotei, bound for a luxury tennis resort, gets stuck in the middle of the wilderness by some freak mistake. It is up to Atobe to lead his team out of the dreaded environment of the forest! AtoJi main pairing


Current mood: excited Current music: Weezer - Pink Triangle

Title: Atobe's Horrendous Camping Expedition

Author: voodoodoll333

Rating: PG-13

Chapter: One

Pairing: AtoJi

Word Count (for this part): 9640

Summary: Hyotei, bound for a luxury tennis resort, gets stuck in the middle of the wilderness by some freak mistake. It is up to Atobe to lead his team out of the dreaded environment of the forest! Includes theoretical wild bear attacks, daring games of Rock, Paper, Scissors, and breathtaking scenes of peeing in the woods! (AtoJi.)

"This is so degrading," Atobe muttered, motioning for his servant to sit his luggage down with a click of his fingers. He frowned, deeply displeased, as what could have been either a large roach or a small mouse scuttled out of the light the open cabin door was letting in, disappearing into the darkness. He turned to his servant. "Oi. Light."

A meager flashlight beam highlighted to small quarters of the log cabin, illuminating atrociously dirty floors and cobwebby corners. There was no bathroom to be seen, no windows, and no refrigerator. The only thing that broke the monotony of the four, dingy wooden walls was a small, dismal hammock-like structure squeaking desolately in the corner.

"This is the training camp's accommodations? Is Sakaki aware just what Hyoutei has to endure?" Atobe spat, hands thrown out in disbelief. Some 'extravagant' retreat they were being sent on! He had half a mind to call their coach and give him a piece of his mind... if their phones had not been confiscated as they would 'distract' them as they got in touch with their tennis roots. He whirled on his servant, who was meekly holding the flashlight. "They honestly expect me to sleep here? Much less TWO people!" Atobe was well aware his composure was slipping, but after a four hour long limo ride with few potty breaks, he was rather cranky. He brought a hand to his face. "Just... do what you can for ore-sama. Make this...livable."

The servant nodded and skittered into the dank room, feather duster in hand. Atobe felt like he needed a shower just standing in the place. He just hoped this 'retreat's' courts were in better condition than the... /shack/ he was being made to sleep in. He watched his man servant dusting futilely at the floor for a while, before he got bored. "Hey. You. Where did Jiroh go when we got dropped off?" Not like there was anywhere to go, he thought cynically. All he had seen from the car was miles and miles of forests. He wondered faintly where the rest of his team was. He hoped they had worse accommodations than him. He smiled. Moldy cabins with rats. Ha.

"The sleepy boy? He went to use the restroom, he said..."

Atobe groaned inwardly. Jiroh using the restroom meant Jiroh was going to find somewhere to hide and sleep. He should have never let the other boy out of his sight. "It's getting dark." He announced, snapping his servant into attention. "We will go find him now. "He turned on his heel and more or less scampered (coolly and collectedly, of course) from the rodent-infested, dirty confines of the cabin, happy to breath in the relative safety of the forest air.

"Where do we begin, sir?" His servant said humbly, looking towards his master expectantly.

Atobe sighed. To be in the presence of those gifted with less intelligence than him was trying, but it was his burden. "Well, which way did he go?" He said slowly, feeling his patience simmering out again. It was beginning to get dark, and he was eager to get his small, hyperactive teammate within sight. Who knows what could happen to him, sleeping out in the wilderness? A bear could eat him, or he could get fleas! Atobe shivered. Ore-sama did not allow parasites to infest his teammates!

The servant contemplated this for a second. "Well... That way, sir." He pointed towards a cluster of trees. It looked like every other cluster of trees to Atobe, but as he approached it he noticed a familiar, whistling snore coming from the dense brush. Now, he was pretty sure trees didn't snore, but Atobe didn't often bother himself with botany studies. Forests and the such, he assumed, were for poor people. "Give me the flashlight." He commanded, palm out. His servant handed it to him. Atobe nodded at him, satisfied. "Very good. I'll shine the light and you look."

His servant nodded, looking into the black of the forest with some hesitation. Atobe shook his hand towards him encouragingly. "Go on." He directed, waving the flashlight authoritatively. He watched sternly as his servant disappeared into the underbrush of the woods, lead by the dim glow of the tiny flashlight.

"I- I found him." His servant called, wavering. "But-"

"But what?" Atobe cut in, hand on hip.

"He's naked."

"What!" Atobe was alarmed, It was more often than not one would find Jiroh ruffled after a nap, his little shirts pulled up over his tan belly, or his shorts slipping down over slim hips, but naked? Jiroh only woke up naked that one time when Gakuto thought it would be a grand April Fool's day joke to hide a nude, sleeping Jiroh into Atobe's locker. Atobe still grimaced when he thought of the blackmail pictures-

"There's a note, sir-"

"Carry him over!" Atobe demanded, waving the flashlight in search of his servant.

"But he's naked-"

"Are you aware that I pay your salary?"

"Coming, sir!"

"And bring that note!"

A strange, hulking mass lurched into vision, and Atobe quickly identified it as his servant carrying a very nude, very /exposed/ Jiroh. He winced and turned his head, examining instead a small daisy that seemed to be growing in the shade of a tree. A little 'plomp' near him announced his servant depositing Jiroh upon the grass next to him. Atobe avoided looking at the boy, feeling a blush grace his features. "Give me the note."

His servant, looking very flustered and flushed, jumbled in his pocket before withdrawing a slip of pink paper, a piece of tape attached to it. "It was stuck to his thigh," He explained, scratching his head.

Atobe frowned and unfolded it. "Well, carry him to the cabin," He said vaguely, eyebrows drawn as his vision was met with horribly girlish pink handwriting.

"Yes sir," His servant said miserably, picking up his fleshy load of boy and marching off. How Atobe longed for Kabaji's quiet presence, but alas, the boy was off in another part of the woods, away from his wonderful presence...

- Give me the cabin or the narcolept gets it. -

Atobe raised an eyebrow and turned the paper over, only to find that the cryptic massage was the only thing on the note. With a threatened manner, he raised his hand to cover his face. "Ore-sama bows to no ransom note!" He announced to the forest in general, hoping whoever stripped Jiroh heard and were frightened by his mere strength of character. A cricket began to chirp. Atobe glowered and walked towards the cabin, eye on the setting sun. 

"Did you see who stripped you?" Atobe questioned sternly, sitting cross-legged on top of his luggage, the only clean thing in the room. He was quite pleased, of course, that his clothes fit Jiroh so well- well in the sense that they covered his previous nakedness entirely. He reached over and tugged up the collar of his button-up shirt, pulling it over Jiroh's shoulder. It had seemed that whoever had relieved Jiroh of his clothes had also purloined his luggage, the tricky bastards.

Jiroh shrugged, causing the shirt to slip down his shoulder again, which Atobe fixed hurriedly. "I-" He yawned extensively, spreading his legs out in front of him on the floor, heedless that it was so filthy. "I was sleeping, Atobe." He smiled at the memory. "It was so comfy, under that tree. I could have slept there naked for days."

Atobe frowned. "Are you aware that a bear could have eaten you?" He reprimanded in his captain voice, stern. "Or you could have gotten fleas? The forest is a dangerous place for tennis players, Jiroh. I must admit that Hyoutei... is not cut out for this environment." He smiled as he caught the sight of his servant fitting clean sheets to the hammock. The guy was getting better, he admitted to himself. He didn't even have to tell him to do that.

Jiroh flumped over at Atobe's feet, catching his attention. "When do we start the retreat?" He questioned sleepily, eyes half lidded as he looked up at his captain. Atobe looked at him to a second, watching to boy bat a stray curl from his eye, transfixed. He cleared his throat.

"I was told someone will come get us in the morning and take us to the rest of the team." Atobe said in a clarifying tone. He inspected his nails and glared at the bit of dirt accrued there.

Jiroh decided to take a full body stretch at the news, arching his back into a demi-circle, tensing, before releasing himself back onto the floor with a satisfied 'oomph'. Atobe observed this in a ruffled manner, bending down to pull the boy's shirt back down, fingers brushing toned boy belly. He straightened up. The cabin was getting too warm for his taste.

"You!" He pointed at his servant, who was munching on a granola bar, looking rather cornered. He straightened up immediately and placed the bar in his pocket, giving Atobe his full attention. "Yes, sir?" He said nervously, awaiting his orders. Atobe sighed. Why did he have to get stuck with such a novice servant?

"Open the door." He instructed. "I am warm." He had a distinct feeling that the heat had nothing to do with temperature, but he was not about to admit he had let his hormones overpower him, even if for a brief moment. "And light another lantern. Ore-sama's eyes are straining."

The servant hesitated. "Sir, well, it's ten o' clock, and I am under strict instruction that you and your teammates must have lights out by now." He opened the door as Atobe had told him.

Atobe stood up. "Why was I not informed of this?" He had not had time to prepare for bed at all! His face was unwashed, his skin unmoisturized, and his hair uncombed! Not to mention he was still in his day clothes, and there was no way he was going to change with someone with the lowly status of 'servant' in the room. Atobe's body was not to be displayed to commoners!

The servant shrugged helplessly. From Atobe's feet, Jiroh gave a whimpering snore.

"Ah. Very well. Servant, you can sleep outside." Ignoring the crushed look of his underling, Atobe nodded to himself. Ingenious. "That way the knaves who stole Jiroh's belongings can't ambush us in the night." He explained, noticing the way his servant had adopted terrified doe eyes. "Don't look so scared. You can have a pillow." He tossed one from the hammock to the man, who caught it with quaking hands.

"Th-thank you, sir." The man squeaked, looking around the relative safety of the cabin hopelessly. Atobe felt no pity for him as he sent him into the outdoors. To be a servant for Atobe was to put your very life on the limb at any second of any day. He was a very important boy, after all.

The door creaked shut and Atobe, satisfied that his servant was gone, allowed himself to relax somewhat. He looked at Jiroh's sleeping figure, curled on the floor, and smirked. Jiroh really could sleep anywhere, it seemed... Atobe withdrew an extra sheet from his bag and placed it over the boy. It wouldn't do for his teammate to get sick, after all. He stood back and admired his handiwork. Jiroh looked so cute then, little blonde head stuck from underneath the sheet, long eyelashes-

Atobe shook himself. This was no time for such perversions, especially if he was awake past the curfew. He didn't want to be unrested for whatever the morning held, nor look sleepy in front of his teammates and lose face. Sure, Jiroh could get away with it, but Atobe had a very strong image to uphold. He pulled his shirt off and folded it neatly, setting it carefully back into his bag. He did the same with has pants, but hesitated as he tugged at the elastic of his silken boxers. Something wasn't right. He looked down at Jiroh, who had stopped snoring, and felt uneasy. The boy still appeared to be asleep, however, but he still hesitated a moment before shucking his boxers.

He wasted no time in pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms and a matching top with his name embroidered upon the chest in gold thread. He felt comfortable for the first time since he had arrived, if you could discount the fact that he was in the wilderness, sleeping in a dirty log cabin. He sat on the hammock testingly, seeing if it would hold his weight. It did, but with much noisy protesting. He winced at the loud creaks the structure made as he laid down upon it. He would have to have his servant check that out in the morning.

"Goodnight." He said aloud, aware that no one was listening, but felt it needed to be said.

"Goodnight, sir!" came the shaky voice of his servant from just beyond the door.

Atobe frowned. Creepy. He arranged himself in a comfortable manner across the tiny hammock and fell asleep with graceful ease. He had a big day tomorrow.

"Atobe, I'm scared."

Atobe turned his head towards the sound, still mostly asleep. "Mrn?" At this rate, he would never get his beauty sleep. He felt deeply annoyed.

"I heard noises." Oh, it was Jiroh, Atobe realized, slitting his eyes open. He attempted to look awake and in control, though he was quite aware he was failing miserably. He pulled his shirt down his stomach where it had ridden up and regarded his teammate.

He started to say something, but forgot what it was. Jiroh was standing in front of his, pillow gripped tight and eyes wide awake- a rare occasion. His hair was tousled and mouth pink, his skin invitingly golden in the light of the flickering lantern-

Atobe mentally smacked himself. Composed. Compooosed. "What?" He asked intelligently. There, Good way to start.

"I heard a scream." Jiroh said shakingly, looking very small. "And voices."

Atobe winced as he felt himself wake up, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed. "I'm sure it was just your imagination." He reassured Jiroh, calling upon his 'captain voice' but falling miserably short as he yawned in the middle of talking.

"I can't go to sleep," Jiroh insisted.

Atobe was awake, then. Jiroh, unable to sleep? An impossibility! "I'll have the servant check around in the morning, Jiroh. You should really get back to sleep."

"The floor is cold." Jiroh whined, shifting from foot to foot, looking quite vulnerable. He rubbed at his eye with a small fist, pouting. "Can you sleep there instead?"

Atobe crossed his arms. "Absolutely not," He replied, affronted. There was no way he would sleep on the floor, where rats and mice and roaches could take bites out of him at their own pleasure! He would absolutely not give up his last stronghold against the dirty, miserable cabin.

Jiroh wilted. "Please? Or... can I sleep with you?"

Atobe flushed and opened his mouth to reply with a stern 'no', but was halted as a blood-piercing scream rang through the night. His eyes widened, and he glanced at the door, reassured that if they were to be killed in the night by a ferocious animal, the servant would go first. He changed his mind quickly. "Just for tonight," He said shortly, raising a corner of the sheet.

He thought that the hammock would collapse when Jiroh began to get in it, but it held, though squeaked loudly. Jiroh was, of course, asleep instantly, but Atobe was unable to relax. It was impossible to ignore the way the brunette fit so snugly against his side, how soft his hair was against his neck, how good the boy smelled... He stared at the ceiling. That was not his arm wrapping around Jiroh's waist. Nope.

Atobe feel asleep after a while, hand nudging into the small of Jiroh's back.

There was someone pounding at the door.

Atobe shifted a bit, still largely asleep. He felt very tired, still, as if he hadn't gotten any sleep at all, and now someone wanted to come and rouse him? Unacceptable. He just wouldn't wake up. Not until he desired so.

Knock, knock.

How impudent. Atobe flung an arm over his face, tightening his other around the source of heavy warmth at his side. So soft, so warm... whatever the thing was, he would be sure to order one immediately once he got home. He drifted slowly back to sleep, smiling slightly at the thought of his future purchase.

He almost didn't notice when the door opened, spilling dim light across the room. Ah. It was probably his servant, coming in for a clothes change. He would have to reprimand him later for waking ore-sama. Or maybe fire him. Servants were very expendable.

"Ah, Atobe. You look comfortable."

Atobe tried not to jump, instead turning towards the voice slowly, as if he knew Oshitari had been there all along. Being in such a vulnerable state as sleep in front of his teammates did not help to improve his captain image. He tried to look in control. "It's far too early to be up. I demand you go back to your cabin." He narrowed his eyes, biting back a yawn with an indignant frown.

Oshitari crossed his arms, smirk evident in the meager light. Atobe refused to be creeped out by the strange way the boy's glasses were glinting at him, a sure sign something not good was about to occur. "I was sent to wake you up," He said, not moving. "But it looks like I can kill two birds with one stone, ah?"

Atobe tried to sit up and clear his head, but found himself strangely weighed. A small mewl came from his side- was this cabin infested with cats, too!

"Mm, Atobe, stop moving..." Atobe blinked down, myopic, at Jiroh, who was tugging tiredly at his shirt, face buried in his shoulder. He felt the world stop moving as he wondered if Oshitari and Jiroh had planned this whole thing, this whole retreat, to embarrass him. He quickly removed his arm from its spot around Jiroh's waist, pulling it close to himself.

"Wake up, Jiroh." He ordered, voice tight and body stiff. Jiroh nuzzled his face into his chest disobediently, causing Atobe to sputter helplessly and Oshitari to laugh from his voyeuristic stance over them. He tried again. "Jiroh, wake up."

"But you're such a good pillow," Jiroh moaned. "So soft..."

Atobe had had it. He was many things- a great tennis player, a fantastic dresser, an exceptionally handsome boy- but he was not a pillow. He was through with this injustice to his character, and tried to stand up and adopt a regal pose. However, the hammock, having idea of its own, creaked loudly and flipped over, depositing Atobe very un-regally on the floor. A loud yell and flump next to him announced Jiroh's subsequent fall.

Atobe was not a suicidal boy, on any level, but there was nothing he would not have given to just curl up and die at that moment.

"Stop laughing," He spat, levering himself up into a sitting position, glaring at Oshitari. "And get out. Now."

Oshitari, doubled over, waved his hand at Atobe in a placating fashion. "I- I'll be right outside," He managed. "Everybody's waiting." He added, snickering, collecting himself again as he made his way out the door, glancing at them and smirking. "So hurry up, buchou."

Atobe simmered angrily as he picked himself off the floor, brushing himself off. Now his pajamas were soiled and his hands dirty. Ugh. He toed Jiroh, who had fallen back asleep within contact of the floor. "Jiroh. Let's get dressed."

Atobe was not a negative boy. But he could tell this was not going to be ore-sama's day.

"Ah, what time is it?" Jiroh whined as he stumbled from the cabin into the dim morning, followed by an unhappy Atobe. He blinked blearily up at the wretched faces of his gathered teammates. "Uwaah, you all look like you didn't sleep at all!"

A rather unkempt looking Gakuto, hair tied back into a messy, frizzy ponytail, crossed his arms. "Yuushi and I didn't sleep." He replied nastily, voice strained.

Shishido, feet away from him, laughed openly.

"We didn't have a cabin, dumbass!" Gakuto snapped, scratching viciously at his arms. Atobe squinted. All up and down Gakuto's arms, disappearing into his little tank top, was a vivid looking rash. He winced and reminded himself to keep his distance from the kid. "We had to sleep on grass. Grass, can you believe it!" Gakuto bitched, looking at Oshitari for support. The taller boy patted him on the back sympathetically.

"Well, so did Choutarou and I!" Shishido growled back, running his fingers through his hair, tugging at it. "What the hell is up with this place, anyway? I was definitely told we would be staying at a four star hotel for this so called retreat," He said sullenly. "In fact, I haven't even seen any building since we got here! Just miles and miles of woods..." He trailed off. "I haven't even seen any people. Have you, Choutarou?"

A very tired-looking Ohtori shook his head.

Atobe frowned. "But this is supposed to be a very constructed retreat, with instructors and state of the art training facilities..." He looked up, face set. "And Sakaki told me the limos are not instructed to return for us until Monday."

Everyone paused and put two and two together.

"We've been ditched." Hiyoshi said, realization dawning. Everyone looked at him, having forgotten his presence. A silence fell then, a quietness only broken by Gakuto's frenzied scratching.

"But- but I even got a pamphlet for this place!" Atobe said, indignant. It was a very nice pamphlet, too, with glossy pictures of a large resort with a huge swimming pool and glistening, new tennis courts. A place surely fit for Ore-sama! By all means, right now he should be lounging in the sun, tanning his flawless skin and sipping a virgin daiquiri!

"This is all very unexpected," Oshitari murmured, hand to his chin, his deep voice husky in the early morning.

Shishido bristled. "Unexpected, yeah. So, what do we do now? Out in the wilderness, without food or any shelter besides a broken down cabin?"

"My cabin." Atobe corrected. No way he was sharing, especially in face of this insane dilemma. Perhaps with Jiroh, yes, but that was only because he had read narcolepts were prone to bear attacks. And he was a warm, snuggly narcolept at that, so he was fine as Atobe's cabin mate. No way he was snuggling with Oshitari or Shishido. Not that he was snuggling with Jiroh. "You all may sleep outside of it."

"I don't want to sleep outside of a cabin!" Gakuto burst. "I'm itchy and dirty and hungry and /dammit, we have been ditched in the middle of nowhere! "He slumped against Oshitari, who made sure not to touch the smaller boy's arms. Instead, he patted the strawberry head gently.

"This is a bad situation," Ohtori admitted, looking quite down. He swiped a cross-trainer over the shiny, dewy grass, getting his shoe wet. "Did anyone else hear those screams last night?" He asked nervously, eyes darting around the group.

Shishido shifted, uncomfortably. "Yeah," He said softly. "That was pretty scary. Sounded really close, too." There was another silence, as the small group of the Hyoutei regulars tried to collect their thoughts.

Atobe was busy collecting himself. His team was in shambles from what he could see, and resort or no, it was his job to keep them together. He pressed his index finger along the bridge of his nose, deep in thought. Their situation wasn't too horrible. They didn't have food. Manageable. They had no wilderness equipment. Fine. There may or may not have been a horrible killer in their presence. Okay. Gakuto was infected with some horrible jungle itchy disease. Let Oshitari deal with it. Something occurred to him, suddenly. "Has anyone seen Kabaji?" Kabaji could probably build a cabin, catch a deer, and carry them all back to Hyoutei before the day was over! Why didn't Atobe think of that before?

No one answered. Hiyoshi shifted uncomfortably.

Atobe felt concerned. "Well? Was he not in anyone's limousine? Answer me!" Now, more than ever, he needed that comforting 'usu' more than anything.

Hiyoshi spoke up then, looking serious. "He was in my ride, but we separated once we were dropped off in the woods. I haven't seen him since."

Atobe added another point to his list. No Kabaji. Detrimental, yes, but this was survival. Hyoutei was the best of the best. La crème de la crème. They would have to survive the weekend depending only upon their wits and intelligence.

Atobe bravely ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Fine," He announced loudly, arms crossing tightly over his chest. "We'll not let this dilemma slow us down! If we want to survive this we'll have to stick together." He felt his captain-ness coming back as he made his speech, and felt reimbursed with energy. "Essentials first. We need to eat." He would not admit it was more his stomach than his innate sense of leadership that had attributed to his making this decision.

He looked out, expectantly, at his team. He was met with blank stares.

"But there are no restaurants around," Gakuto pointed out, confused. Everyone agreed with him in faint murmurs, nodding.

"So we will live off the bounty of the land," Atobe declared with a flourish of his arm. "Ah. Yes. This is our first task." He nodded decisively.

"...I'm going back to bed, then." Jiroh said, brushing past Atobe, towards the cabin.

"Yuushi and I packed snacks," Gakuto piped up, sounding quite unenthusiastic about Atobe's 'sticking together to defeat the situation' idea. "I don't know about everyone else, but I sure as hell ain't gonna parade around a forest looking for food." He said grouchily, scratching away at himself.

Atobe bristled at this outright insubordination, and opened his mouth the reprimand the redhead with some kind of scathing remark- hey, just because they were in the middle of nowhere didn't mean that the snippy brat couldn't run a few laps- but was interrupted by a more polite tone.

"I guess I have to agree," Ohtori said, looking at his hands. "I mean, I have enough food to last this weekend... some granola bars and vitamin shakes... and if you aren't up to sharing your cabin-" He glanced at Atobe meekly, pulling his 'good kohai' act the maximum. "No offence, buchou, but if we're going to be here for a while, I'd want to get some kind of shelter together to wait this trip out." He looked at Shishido, apprehensive. "Right, Shishido-san?"

"Sorry Atobe," Shishido said, waving his hand. "But Choutarou's right. No offence, but just because we came here as a team doesn't mean a thing. The Hyoutei golden rule- every man for himself, right?" He smirked. "We'll see you later." He and Ootori picked their way into the forest at that, presumably towards their luggage.

Atobe gaped at them, wordless. He couldn't believe such outright mutiny was going on right under his nose! This was an outrage; he would have each and every one of them kicked off the team, the ungrateful-

"Where are you two headed to?" Atobe snapped at Oshitari and Gakuto's retreating backs, rightfully enraged at the entire situation. Here he was, subordinate-less, resort-less, and now team-less? What was this, some cruel trick of the gods? How dare they punish ore-sama so! He shook his fist mentally at the heavens.

Oshitari shrugged. "Seeing how things are, Gakuto and I are better off alone. No offence, but the idea of roughing it doesn't appeal to me very much," He drawled, considering Atobe over the rim of his glasses. Gakuto nodded supportively next to him.

"You can share ore-sama's cabin," Atobe offered, suddenly feeling very alone. Not that he ever got lonely; it was just that he would rather have more people in the cabin in case of a vicious bear attack. Chances were Oshitari and Gakuto would provide a filling meal and the bear would leave him and Jiroh unscathed and warm in the hammock, and if not then Atobe was willing to sacrifice his servant as well. He frowned. Where was servant, anyway?

Oshitari smiled. "That's quite alright, Atobe. I packed a tent." He wasn't a tensai for no reason, after all. He smiled smugly. He was always prepared for any situation, oho, he was.

"What? You have a tent?" Gakuto hissed, incredulous. "You had a tent the WHOLE TIME? Why the hell didn't you set it up- I HAVE POISON IVY BECAUSE OF YOU!"

Oshitari had the grace to appear sheepish. "I forgot until now."

"Fine," Atobe spat, fed up with the situation and feeling highly disappointed with every aspect of the morning in general. "I see how it is." Every man for himself, eh? Well, that was fine. Atobe was totally self sufficient, after all. Having his teammates would probably hinder what would undoubtedly prove to be a tremendous conquest over the wilderness- he would overcome these obstacles and have a super productive weekend!

He watched Oshitari and Gakuto disappear with a smirk. Feh. He didn't need them.

"Uh, buchou..."

"Yes, Hiyoshi?"

"Can I share your cabin?" The quiet boy asked, serious voice soft.

Atobe considered this. "Hiyoshi, I'm sorry, but there is no room for you. It cannot be helped."

Hiyoshi nodded, brusque. "I see."

Atobe thought for a moment, then had an idea. "Oshitari and Gakuto have a tent. Sleep with them." He commanded, pleased to have at least one obedient teammate. Served them right, anyway, for abandoning their captain in a mutual time of need.

Hiyoshi grunted an affirmative and trudged off, suitcase dragging through the forest.

Atobe put a hand to his face and fell into deep thought, turning back to the cabin. What was he to do now?

Atobe spent at least an hour dawdling about aimlessly (not that he would call any of his actions aimless, of course- everything ore-sama did was with great purpose and grandiose intent!), going through his luggage, unpacking and unfolding everything, then refolding and repacking everything to his satisfaction. Then, sure Jiroh was slumbering soundly- the boy was stretched haphazardly across the floor, asleep where his body had hit first, murmurs sounding randomly from parted, plush lips- Atobe went through Jiroh's luggage, too.

Not because he was nosy or bored or anxious for something to do, of course, because Atobe could count the number of times he had ever let himself be bored or nosy or let alone anxious on his chest hair. And Atobe did not have any chest hair, because ore-sama had a scheduled waxing every first Monday.

But Atobe unzipped the luggage very softly, because he was sure that if he himself were to catch anyone in the act of invading his privacy, he would be very angry. He glanced at Jiroh- still asleep, now snoring a soft little snore that Atobe had to raise a tiny smile at- the same snore Jiroh had snored last night, light, feathery influctions of breath across Atobe's neck...

Jiroh's large sports bag seemed to stock the standard fare of travel accessories; he had the fundamentals (toothbrush, deodorant, and little yellow ankle socks, four pairs of them, all with little smiley faces on the heel), a few changes of shirts and shorts, his Hyoutei jersey, and a few questionably adorable pairs of cartoon decal underwear. Atobe handled these with amusement, lifting them out with care and setting them on top of the rest of Jiroh's supplies, peeking in the large bag to see if there was something he missed, perhaps a snack, he was sort of hungry-

"How to win your dream man!" A magazine flared, large, bold letters staring at Atobe flagrantly. Atobe blinked, intrigued, and scooped the thing from the bag, fingers skimming the glossy surface of the thing in trepidation. Jiroh, keep a woman's magazine with him? Was it a mistake?

Now, usually such things were below Atobe, of course. He was not nor had any intention of ever lowering himself to the standards of the general Japanese schoolgirl populace, let alone read their gossipy drivel. But this was a special occasion, he deliberated to himself. It was not everyday Atobe found himself stranded in the woods, after all, and he had to find some kind of way to keep his mind on edge, even if it meant resorting to... to...

Tokyo Girl.

He reminded himself to have a long talk to Jiroh about his selection in reading material, because really, this was not appropriate reading material for one on the Hyoutei Regular's team. He flipped through the pages cursorily, eyes skimming past the pages of advertisements and logos uninterestedly, catching instantly on a dog-eared page and flipping to it deftly. It seemed to be an advice column, he noted, reading down the page quickly. Dear Tokyo Girl, my boyfriend broke up with me... Dear Tokyo Girl, I am overweight... Dear Tokyo Girl, I think I'm in love with the captain of my tennis team... Dear Tokyo-

Dear Tokyo Girl, I think I'm in love with the captain of my tennis team! Atobe read on, extremely intrigued. Plus, the paragraph had been highlighted by excited hands, shaky lines of bright color running over the cheap paper.

"Dear Tokyo Girl,

I think I'm in love with the captain of my tennis team. I mean, he's just so COOL! He's super good at everything, too! Sometimes he even lets me sleep on his lap, and it's really soft! He has this really AWESOME technique, where he can spot someone's weakness... Isn't that COOL? I don't think he's seen mine, though, which is why I'm writing, of course. We're going to a resort this weekend- the whole team, and I wanted to tell him! We are supposed to room together, from what the coach has told me... I'm so excited! Awesome! Should I tell him? I mean, he's just so cool, and I don't want him to hate me... :( (A little smiley face was inserted into the type at this point, presumably translated from a little drawn face on the actual letter) What should I do?"

Atobe stared, amused, at the booklet in his hands. Ha, that captain sounded a lot like him- he was after all, cool and awesome, and it was only right that one would fear the inevitable, crushing defeat of a rejection issued from him. No doubt this was about some other captain in Tokyo, written by some rabid, lovesick fanperson. Ah, Atobe had his share of those, of course.

A small part of his brain, however, screamed 'doesn't the language of that letter sound horribly familiar!'. That was, though, the same part of Atobe's mind that demanded he shouldn't care so horribly for his appearances and that he should eat that extra bowl of Italian ice when he felt moody. That part of his brain was promptly ignored at all costs, as it obviously brought no good to ore-sama's being.

"AmmmmMMM... Atobe!" Jiroh sighed near him, causing Atobe to jump guiltily, throwing the magazine back into its rightful place in the sports bag, landing messily amidst Jiroh's bright undies. He quickly collected himself and smoothly replaced Jiroh's belongings in perfect order, after making sure the boy was still asleep. Ah, that was close. Atobe, resigned to sit in the cabin for the rest of the day, unentertained, leaned back against the wall, eyes slitting.

Jiroh shifted restlessly, and Atobe turned his gaze on the other boy, breathing out in a leisurelike manner. Really, Jiroh wasn't properly dressed whatsoever for this trip, evident in the polka-dot of bug bites lining his exposed legs and neck. Atobe reached out, without thinking, and brushed a hand along the line of Jiroh's neck, belatedly realizing that such a touch from him would no doubt wake the boy up, as it had so many other times.

But it didn't.

Instead, Atobe had to snatch his hand back as Jiroh sprang not into rapt attention to Atobe, but rather into what seemed to be a full-body spasm, his arms flinging outwards, drawing his shirt far past his navel. "Ohgodyes," Jiroh purred, eyes shut tightly in slumber. A small hand found it's was onto a smooth boy-belly, rubbing the skin there into a flush. "Mmm, so GOOD!"

Now, Atobe prided himself quite often on being unsoiled by the common ways of mankind, but he was not so pure as to be blind as to just what kind of dream Jiroh was having. He had, of course, had a few himself, totally unwilling, on his behalf, but that knowledge just didn't change the fact that his little, golden cabin mate was having a raunchy little daydream right at his feet. Atobe couldn't help but stare, frozen and utterly horrified, of course, eyes caught on the way Jiroh's hand was traveling lower, rubbing against the hem of his shorts.

Atobe was sure as hell blushing; even he could not deny that.

"Ah, ah..." Jiroh sighed, head thrashing, sending little waves of hair this way and that, pearly teeth clenching at his bottom lip-

Atobe decided that it would probably be a very good time to give his teammate some privacy then, for his sake as well as Jiroh's. He was quite sure that he would most likely never be able to face the boy again and keep his famous composure, to be sure. He stood up, shakily, and scooted his way towards the door, careful not to touch the other boy.

His hand reached around the doorknob, after what seemed an eternity of heavy breathing and breathless pleas, and Atobe took his chance to exit then, not having enough luck to leave before a loud groan of "Ah, faster, pleeeease!"

Atobe scrambled to shut the door and leaned against it, eyes wide and breath a bit heavy, his heart doing strange palpitations in his chest. Well, that was over, he thought in relief. He smoothed a hand over his hair, combing his fingers through the strands until they were forced into impeccable order once again. His eyes scanned the afternoon glory of the forest, which was quite gloomy, all things considered. In fact, the heavy clouds overhead promised rain, roiling angrily above the trees in dark, clotted masses.

All was silent, except for what Atobe could or could not recognize as Jiroh moaning. He chalked it off to the leaves shifting in the winds, though there was no wind. With a sigh, Atobe re-evaluated his position. He was, as before noted, alone in the wilderness, without a team, without a cell phone, and without a Kabaji. He had a horny Jiroh and a few changes of clothes, as well as an old, creaky hammock and what could, in a very generous mood, be called a shack.

Plus, he had to pee.

As Atobe trudged moodily towards the shrubbery to do his business, he prayed that a bear attack him and end his misery. There was no way he would make it through this weekend alive.

"Ha! Go fish!" Shishido crooned haughtily, kindly directing a rather dejected looking Oshitari towards the card pile with a point of his finger. With the hand not holding his cards he took a generous bite of his muffin- supplied, homemade, by Ohtori, who had packed a few just in case. He shifted a bit towards his doubles partner, their knees pressing together. This trip wasn't turning out to be so bad after all, in his opinion. He had food, a corner of Oshitari and Gakuto's tent to sleep in, and Ohtori on his side. He was pretty damn content.

"Ah, Shishido-sempai, do you like the muffin?" Ohtori asked quietly, as Hiyoshi doled out their next hand, cards skimming across the tarp that comprised the tent's floor. Shishido nodded, smiling, and Ohtori couldn't help but notice that a stray crumb had found its way onto Shishido's lips, and also couldn't help his hand that reached up and rushed it away softly, lingering.. "I'm glad," He murmured, voice low.

A sudden, loud crack made everyone jump, suddenly, cards flying everywhere. Gakuto whimpered, clinging bodily to Oshitari's thigh.

"What was that!" Shishido asked in a shrill tone, detaching himself from Ohtori, blushing a bit.

Hiyoshi shrugged, collecting the wayward cards and shuffling them with sure fingers, serious. "Thunder, it sounded like." He suggested, tapping the deck against his leg.

Gakuto pried himself into Oshitari's lap (the other boy being in quite a little mood thanks to his recent losses in the noble game of Go Fish). He wasn't too fond of storms, he had to admit, something about them made him very...skittish, extremely nervous. He settled into the relative comfort of Oshitari's firm torso, arms folded tightly as another boom of thunder sounded around them.

They went silent, all five of them- until the deafening, sudden sound of heavy rain on the tent roof came.

"I say we play rock paper scissors," Oshitari offered.

"Ah, Atobe, where were you?"

Atobe paused in the doorway of the cabin, sodden wet and dripping in an ungraceful manner. He avoided looking at Jiroh, because if he did he knew for a fact that very, very recent memories of the boy writhing and moaning would come back at him full blast. And he did not want to go out in that storm again, thank you very much. It was bad enough that the damn weather had decided to literally catch him with his pants down.

"I had to take a step outside," Atobe replied, closing the door against a fresh hale of rain, an extremely disgruntled expression gracing his features. He chanced a look at Jiroh- he was sitting Indian style against the far wall, his smiley-faced feet tucked under his tight calves, smile wide. Atobe bent down to shuffle through his bag for a fresh pair of clothes- the last thing he needed was to have chafed thighs, on top of everything else.

Jiroh cocked his head, quite awake for once. "Is it raining?" He questioned, all cute naiveté, chin propped up on fists, eyes watching Atobe's every move. The other boy was sodden wet, fitted white t-shirt and work-out pants clinging tightly to his thighs and chest, an embarrassing perk of nipple evident. Jiroh stared at the raised place for a while. Even Atobe's nipple was cool, somehow!

"It is raining." Atobe affirmed waspishly, squinting in the meager light of the little cabin, He pulled out yet another pair of pants- at this rate he would have to re-wear a set of clothes. He shuddered slightly at the thought of re-wearing a day's worth of grime, dirtying the immaculate form of his body. He shucked his pants, quickly, quite aware that Jiroh was probably still watching him- not that he could be blamed, to stare at such an object of perfection as Atobe was simple natural, he knew. He went for his shirt next, peeling the fabric from his skin-

BOOM!

Atobe was dimly aware of his body being propelled forward, a warmth at his back- and then he felt the wall as he was smacked hard against it. He slid to the floor, hands still caught in his shirt. What was the meaning of this! Ore-sama was not to be manhandled in any situation! He turned (or rolled, rather, as his shirt was rather effectively binding his hands to his stomach); ready to confront his attacker-

And was suddenly face to face with Jiroh, who most definitely had on the sort of look one has when they are trying their hardest not to cry. Atobe then realized, belatedly, that Jiroh's bodily fling had not been a totally spontaneous action- it looked like Godzilla had visited their cabin, a huge hole marring the top of their cabin. Atobe looked closer, squinting over the top of Jiroh's curly, sniffling head. A few thick, charred tree branched stuck through the hole, obviously part of a tree had been knocked into the little shack by a sporadic burst of lightning. Atobe stared. The hole was, of course, right over his and Jiroh's bags and a small waterfall of rain was, of course, soaking into his nice, dry clothes right before his eyes.

A small keening noise, very close to him, erupted from what he assumed was Jiroh, and Atobe turned slowly towards the boy in front of him, a bit shocked at the very rapid turn of events. If he had still been standing there, changing-

Ore-sama... could have been no more.

"Atobe," And now Jiroh was very, very close to him, both of them collapsed on the floor, supported by the wall of the cabin. Jiroh dug a fist into Atobe's shirt, face contorted in pain. Atobe sat up, immediately concerned for the welfare of one of his team members, but recoiled at the sound of pain Jiroh gave off at the movement. "I think I hurt my knee." The smaller boy moaned, clutching at the place, leaning heavily against Atobe.

Atobe frowned, caught unpleasantly between the hard, dirty wall and the sniffling, injured Jiroh. Not only was he at a loss of what exactly to do, but his damp shirt was turning cold and making his skin goosebump, too. He put a hand on Jiroh's shoulder, pulling the boy closer to himself unconsciously, almost, seeking warmth on some primal level. The boy whimpered and dug small fingers into Atobe's biceps, clenching the muscle there.

Atobe's eyebrow furrowed. "Jiroh. Does it hurt that bad?" He really hoped that Jiroh would say no, because despite all of Atobe's extensive skills and knowledge, he knew next to little in any kind of first aid.

Jiroh squirmed a bit then, as if testing the injury, and screwed his eyes shut, soft golden eyelashes flashing brilliant in a flash of lightning. Maybe it was time Atobe faced reality and found his other teammates... not for his sake, of course, because he was as self-reliant as a man could be, but for Jiroh... because if he died on this trip it would undoubtedly be on ore-sama's conscience forever. How could he captain such a prestigious team as Hyoutei with such a burden on his soul? He could see it now-

"Cute, young tennis player dead due to a freak tree-cabin accident, the beautiful Atobe Keigo to blame..."

"Atobe?" Jiroh's voice, tiny and hey, right next to his ear- ore-sama had let his guard down it seemed.

"Ah?"

"Can you carry me to the hammock? My knee hurts really bad..." Jiroh sounded a bit guilty at that, his happy voice lower than usual, a bit muffled considering his face was tucked into Atobe's shoulder now. "And... I think the water is spreading."

Atobe looked up, alarmed. Ah, it was true, he saw. A large puddle, a pool, almost, was spreading rapidly towards them, insidiously creeping. He retracted his foot slowly, away from the wet stuff. "Won't it hurt?" He asked Jiroh, eyes still on the forming pool, bemoaning the fate of his poor luggage and designer, tailored sportswear. Some part of him also felt a bit sad that Jiroh's cute underwear and slightly interesting, girly magazine were meeting the same fate, a wet and gloomy death.

Jiroh shook his head, tickling his soft hair against the sensitive skin of Atobe's neck. Atobe noticed, with the feeling that it was both the wrong place and wrong time, that Jiroh's hair smelled like the imported apples Atobe had sent to him, sweet and ripe and delicious. He breathed it in for a second- Atobe had to admit he preferred Jiroh's sweet scent over the damp, rotting smell of the cabin, and slowly slip his arm up and under Jiroh's legs, gently curling his hand over a knee, the other arm supporting his back. "On the count of three," He muttered to himself.

Jiroh let out a small mewl of pain as Atobe hefted him up, the taller boy staggering a bit under the weight. He teetered over to the hammock, quite aware of his precious load- Jiroh was a lot heavier than he looked, that was for sure- Atobe had a strange feeling he had been delusioned with the idea that Jiroh was made of marshmallow or something equally soft and comfy. Luckily, it wasn't too far to the hammock, and the thing was positioned under what remained of the roof, leaving the unstable structure rather dry. Atobe let Jiroh loose gently upon the hammock, a few back vertebrae popping in relief as he set the (heavy, surprisingly heavy) boy down.

Jiroh sighed out loud as he positioned himself until he was comfortable, propping his knee up and out of the hammock. Atobe got his first good look at it then- Jiroh's knee, usually so smooth and, well, aesthetically pleasing to look at, really, all golden skin pulled over the joint elegantly, not to knobby or projecting, was now a weird looking mess of a dirty, bloody scrape surrounded by the beginnings of a serious bruise. Atobe supposed that when Jiroh had pushed him out of the way the boy had taken all of his weight on his knee, hurting himself something terrible. He felt a swell of guilt, something he was horribly unaccustomed to, being the flawless creature that he was.

He also felt horribly out of his element, not for the first time since the whole trip fiasco began. More than just self pity, this time- now Atobe just wished he was home with a nice pineapple fruit drink, not standing helpless above his injured, cold, wet teammate, who was looking at him with expectation shining in his eyes, cutting through the dark of the cabin.

"Atobe, I'm cold," Jiroh said softly, eyes not even on Atobe's person, but staring a bit distantly at the gushing hole in the ceiling, noting how dark the sky was. He was also hungry, in pain, and wet, but all of that was sort of to be assumed, and would seem redundant and whiny if he said them out loud. Being cold- Atobe was a very warm person, at least in body. For the first time in his recent memory, he wasn't the least bit tired.

Atobe smiled a bit at that. "And what do you expect me to do about that, Jiroh? I'm in about the same position as you." He was cold and wet too- in fact, having a soaked shirt on probably was not helping the state of affairs. He curled long fingers underneath the hem and pulled it over his head in one graceful movement, still towering over the hammock. He noticed, belatedly, that when the movement was added to his dialogue, the choice of actions, when conjoined, was probably rather suggestive. He flushed, a little, and dropped the shirt to the floor.

"Keep... me warm?" Jiroh offered softly, a strand of damp, curling hair falling into his eyes, his pink lips shining as he spoke. Atobe, for unknown reasons, felt his heart stop in his chest. It was a very innocent query, he was sure, but the way Jiroh was looking at him... He nodded, then, and carefully levered himself into the swinging hammock, hands gripping the sides tightly, a few drips of water hitting his bare, arched back.

"Tell me if I hurt you." He said seriously. Usually Atobe was not one to concern himself with the welfare of others, but if Jiroh's injury affected his tennis in anyway... he couldn't have that happen. He slid in the hammock next to Jiroh very slowly, one leg, then the other, packed close to the other boy. Oh, and Jiroh was very, very cold- his skin was ice, bumpy with chills, his bare legs shivering a bit under the scarce cover of his shorts. Atobe scooted a bit closer, cold himself.

Jiroh breathed out, a shivery little exhalation that hit Atobe's cheek, making him turn towards the boy. "Doesn't hurt," Atobe made out from Jiroh's whispered voice, his own pulse rising a little bit.

"Good," Atobe said quietly, eyes lowering the study the soft plane of Jiroh's cheek, so close to his own. If he moved forward a bit, and absurd idea, to be sure, he would be kissing Jiroh, ore-sama's first kiss... what a funny idea, really. He felt Jiroh touch at his bare shoulder with gentle fingertips, and couldn't help when his arm jerked a little, hand coming in slight, then firm contact with the soft padded line of the smaller boy's hip, palm pressing there. "Jiroh..." His voice was a foreign whisper, too old to be himself.

Atobe was at a complete lack of words, for the first time in his very verbose life. The situation was completely beyond his logical grasp, but he knew that he knew exactly what was going on. He couldn't pretend that he didn't want this, not since the first day Jiroh crawled onto his lap for a quick nap, nuzzling into his collarbone-

"Atobe, I..." Atobe's eyes moved, myopic and syrup-slow, to meet Jiroh's- the boy had moved back, enough watch Atobe with large, dark eyes. Atobe was slightly aware of his knee moving easily in between Jiroh's, his heart beating so loud that it seemed it had taken residence next to his ear drums.

Atobe blinked, Jiroh's voice registering in his normally smooth thought processes quite belatedly, and became slightly annoyed that Jiroh really found it necessary to talk. Really, Atobe's main instinct was telling him that the last thing he wanted to do right now was talk- and he was a very instinctual boy. Instincts won a tennis match, he knew, and really, he wouldn't mind starting a volley of sorts with Jiroh. He cleared his throat, muscles contracting painfully. "What is it?" His ego, which had receded to a safe shelter in the back of his immense mind, was mourning the loss of his coolness. His voice was squeaking like he had just hit puberty.

Jiroh went silent for a moment, the roaring of rain around them a sort of background sound by then. His light eyebrows drew together, perplexedly, as he searched for the correct words to convey what he was feeling. This was, somehow, a very important moment, and he could not afford to screw it up.

A moment of contemplative, tense silence.

"You look SO HOT when you're wet!" There, Jiroh had let it out. His mouth continued to run, as it tended to do, the look on Atobe's face that of a deer in very bright headlights. "And, and, and- you looked so brave when you carried me to the hammock!" Jiroh's little face scrunched up, lost in an epic grin of fanboy delight. "Sugoi! Ah!"

Atobe felt absolutely nothing for a moment, shocked. Then it hit him- Jiroh had just called him hot. Jiroh thought he was brave. Jiroh just pulled a "sugoi face" so bright, so close, so /cute/ that it had almost blinded him. "I-" he started-

"Mmmm," Jiroh ended for him.

Atobe would look back on this moment fondly in the future, because even Ore-sama himself thought that a person's first kiss was special- and since he /was/ Ore-sama, after all, this particular first kiss was not only special, but extremely amazing. Even if, for the first ten seconds or so, he only laid stiffly as Jiroh literally glomped onto him, bodily fixing himself around Atobe's person- quite energetically for one who had just been incapacitated with pain minutes prior.

Atobe got into motion, after finally coming to grips with what was happening- and, being a very healthy, active teenager, didn't need to put much thought into whether or whether not he should engage with what seemed to be sexual activity with an injured teammate in the middle of a raging storm on a badly constructed hammock.

Atobe promptly rolled Jiroh on his back and kissed the breath out of the smaller boy.

"Aaah," Jiroh gripped weakly at Atobe's shoulders, wets lips glancing across the other boys as he broke the kiss to breathe. It was then they took stock of their situation, in the murky way one takes notice of things when they have just been kissed senseless. Atobe was nestled comfortably, give or take, between the declinations of Jiroh's upward bent thighs, his weight resting on his elbows as he bowed over his teammate, panting. Jiroh felt satisfied, at that. Atobe never panted like that, not even after that one game he had played against that Tezuka guy. He laid a sloppy kiss to Atobe's hand, which had crept up to his cheek. His hands strung themselves loosely around Atobe's neck, thin wrists pressing down on the sides of his neck. "I liked that." Obviously, by the way he was practically squirming for more.

Atobe felt a little bit more like his normal self, then, basking under the praise so rightly bestowed upon his prowess. "Good," He purred, head bent low, snaking smooth kisses over the cute bump of Jiroh's nose, fingers digging slowly into loose, honey curls. He felt warm all over even though he was still damp, and could never remember his expensive, down-filled mattress being as comfortable as Jiroh was under him- but then again, Atobe had never made out with a mattress. He pressed another kiss to Jiroh's lips, then, sinking back into the warmth of the other boy, smiling minutely at the small, happy whimpers coming from him.

This camping trip was looking up, Atobe decided.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed, regardless of any errors! Thanks for reading:D

A/N: This thing's a monster! (by my standards, anyway) I've never typed so much in my life, to be truthful, so I broke it up. Well, my beta broke it up. Thanks, by the way. I meant for this to be a horribly heartbreaking, extremely beautiful tale of love found in the wilderness... and fell short. Ho, ho. This is also my first ever Hyoutei fic! parties! So if anyone is OOC, feel free to beat Atobe with a log. 


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